Puddle Jumping to Madrid

Hola de Espana! It´s a crisp, Friday afternoon here in Madrid following some rain showers that went through last night. I expected oppressive heat here, so this cooler weather is a happy surprise.

Most of yesterday was spent just getting here to Madrid. I didn´t think it would take up the entire day. After having a crackin´ good breakfast again at the Palmer Hostel, I spent some time talking with two Canadians from Toronto, getting advice on where to find free Internet and water fountains in London. I then checked out of my hostel and thought I could take a leisurely stroll from Swiss Cottage down to Victoria Station, taking in the sights along the way. However, the blister on the back of my heel was killing me from the day before, and I suddenly realized that I had only 3 hours to spare to board my plane. So I had to splurge for an Oystercard (London´s name for their Underground transit card. Don´t ask me how they got that name. Maybe the term "oyster" has a better connotation in London than it does for me.) and jump in the Tube to get my butt over to Victoria in a hurry. While getting my Oystercard, I had Underground security approach me. I had accidentally left my water bottle by a bench, and they must have thought it was a bomb. You want to see a paranoid city? Go to London. I´ve seen more security cameras here than at a Wal-Mart. I´m surprised they don´t have cameras pointed at you when you´re in the bathroom (or maybe they do. I shudder to think about it. No wonder why "Big Brother" is such a popular reality show here).

I made it to Victoria Station, rushed to buy a ticket to board the Gatwick Express. I had visions of Harry Potter suddenly enter my mind. I thought maybe I would get to find Platform 10 3/4 and a magical train would suddenly appear and transport me to the Airport of Wizardry. Nope. It was just a Muggle train...nothing magical about it at all. I did talk to some Texans from Dallas on the train and talk to them about France some. Americans have been easy to spot around here in London. They´re not dressed in black business suits and look much happier.

Once I got to Gatwick, I checked my bags. British airport security is far more neurotic than anything we´ve experienced in America. They´ll take your picture right before you go through the metal detector. I thought this was like being at the DMV, so I stopped in front of the camera, gave my best smile into it for a few seconds, and the British security lady goes, "I already took your picture, so you don´t have to keep posing into the camera." Sorry...I thought this was a photo shoot. I do want to look my best on television if my picture is ever broadcast. My bad. Once I got through security, I used up my final 2.50 pounds on a sandwich (I´ve noticed how Europeans have all these premade sandwiches in this cute triangular plastic packages. They must like their sandwiches.)

For my flight over to Madrid, I took a carrier called easyJet. I think Hooters Air must have donated their entire fleet of ugly orange planes to easyJet when they went under. And in a weird twist of fate, all the stewards were male and wearing orange. Maybe they have a chain of greasy chicken wing joints in Spain called Easy´s that caters towards women. easyJet is quite the no-frills airline, serving you nothing at all in regards to free food (I was looking for the chicken wings). And half the people on board were whiny kids from England (Brit Brats) being chaperoned by school teachers. I realized that it doesn´t matter what culture you´re in...teenagers across the board are just annoying and whiny. And even more so on planes.

At the Madrid airport, I looked for my friend Eric but couldn´t find him. I waited an hour (his plane landed immediately after mine), so I got fed up, figured he must have missed his flight (or I somehow missed him), and I bought a Metro subway ticket and took off to my hostel. The Hostel Metropol is in a great location in the heart of the city. There used to be an old hotel here, but they converted it into a hostel, complete with a lounge and bar. Once I arrived, I succumbed to going to the McDonald´s underneath the hostel, because I was desperate for any type of food. And if you´re tired and don´t feel like dealing with speaking a foreign language, you can somehow communicate in McDonaldese because that seems to be a universal language. I finally found my friend when I got back to the hostel, ragged at him for experiencing "culture shock" and getting confused about where to go at the airport, and then went out to check out our new digs.

Today we spent the day wandering the streets of Madrid. We checked out the gardens and parks around here and started formulating some plans on what to see these next few days. Madrid seems like an easy-to-negotiate city. But I think I did sense someone trying to pickpocket my camera from me. I´m now hanging onto it at all times. Can´t trust anyone anymore.